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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802282">trust, then</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/konvalija/pseuds/konvalija'>konvalija</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all you do is perceive [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne's A+ Parenting, Canon Temporary Character Death, Cassandra Cain-centric, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/konvalija/pseuds/konvalija</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'She didn’t grieve like this when Steph died. Then again, she guesses, Steph never told her to leave.'</p>
<p>It's always all about how the desire for connection is inherent but the fear of it is not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cassandra Cain &amp; Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain/Raven, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all you do is perceive [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>trust, then</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I messed with continuity a lot so comic book backstory-wise Raven's timeline runs through The New Teen Titans up till the end of the whole Trigon and then Brother Blood storyline buuut this series will include a rewrite of Raven (2016) so I had to mess around to adjust for that.</p>
<p>Cass' pretty obvious, we start in HK lmao</p>
<p>The whole Cass-goes-evil bit? Never happened. Here but also as a general rule.</p>
<p>In general, me and canon are flirting but we’re not married &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She keeps going until Gotham is contained, as much as Gotham can be, and then she crashes.</p>
<p>It’s been touching the shore for a while, Cass thinks, the hot, wet grief that starts in the back of her skull. She hasn’t slept in a while, using the few hours she would catch here and there to wait out the headaches. The steady thud of heavy Gotham rain pulsates through her skull.</p>
<p>She didn’t grieve like this when Steph died. Then again, she guesses, Steph never told her to leave.</p>
<p>“This is the last time. Honest,” Steph says. Cass can’t see her, their backs pressed, working as leverage for her high kicks. She’s seen what Bruce must have seen, though, how readily but unsteadily Steph carries her Spoiler identity.</p>
<p>It makes sense. It doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.</p>
<p>“I fought for him,” she tells Steph, looking away from her concern. Batgirl suit peels off easily from her skin, rain soaking her undershirt, seeping into her sports bra and making it cling in a way the suit never did.</p>
<p>It’s not true, a voice curled up in the grief says. It’s not, Cass agrees, the fight was never for him but maybe the symbol was. Maybe she misunderstood that part, misconstrued it in a way that she needed at the time. It’s not like there’s anyone left to ask.</p>
<p>Cass hasn’t really planned the handover before, she hasn’t really thought about it much, maybe waiting to be ready. Probably waiting for the crash. She packed the bag a while ago, leaving it by the door and nearly tripping over it most nights.</p>
<p>Steph is waiting by the security gate when she gets to the airport. Cass suspects she has Barbara to thank for that, her throat squeezing a little. She should call Barbara before she boards. Tim too, maybe.</p>
<p>“Don’t come looking for me, Steph.” It feels pointless to say, if Stephanie wants to do something there are no words that can stop her. “For your own good,” she adds.</p>
<p>Her best friend must hear the emphasis in her voice. “Don’t be dramatic,” Steph says, concern withheld from her voice but visible at the corners of her eyes. “Give me a hug, stupid.”</p>
<p>It’s not a warm hug; Steph must have gotten caught in the rain on her way to the airport, her hair is damp, the brown leather of her jacket creaks against Steph’s wet coat but she smells like her papaya shampoo. Cass breathes it in, files that away for later, tucked away in the headache starting at her temples.</p>
<p>It’s not until the lights turn off on the plane that she realises she has a fever.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The airport almost loses her bag, so Cass sits in the arrival hall for a long while. She buys a face mask at one of the airport stores. Her throat feels itchy, it makes her eyes water; she must look ill already, judging by the way some people sitting nearby turn their faces away and move seats, trying to make it look casual.</p>
<p>Cass narrows her eyes at the rude airport worker who hands her the bag, putting as much vitriol in her gaze as possible. He looks extremely unimpressed.</p>
<p>She’s not sure when or how the apartment was prepared but she finds it stocked. It’s not small but it’s smaller than her Gotham flat was, with a one bedroom and a kitchen hidden in a nook. The washing machine is built into the counters because right, that’s something she will have to figure out now.</p>
<p>Cass finds the hidden panel easily, built into the main area wall.</p>
<p>It’s not really a Batcave or a Bunker, its more like a Bat-basement. The computer is adapted for audio files; her chest tightens a little, but she breathes in and out slowly until the hold relaxes. There are suits hanging on display, she knows they will fit. All of them have a bat displayed on the chest, central and proud.</p>
<p>Cass opens the bedroom window upstairs, letting the sounds of the city inside. The apartment is high enough that most sounds are indistinguishable, but they keep fever dreams at bay.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The first few days she spends asleep. Her body crashes as soon as she lays down, her limbs filled with lead and her throat with pine needles. It's reminds her of the deep, heavy sleep she fell into after being brought back by Shiva, the way her head felt heavy and her eyes grainy despite the lost hours. Maybe she was grieving then too.</p>
<p>Cass rarely dreams, a welcomed trait. On the third night she dreams of fire.</p>
<p>Groceries come to her door, so she eats matcha cookies down in the Bat-basement. She takes one of the suits down from where its displayed, the one that’s sleek black with reinforced shoulder pads and straps that seem purely there to give it a sturdier look. Cass is pretty sure they have no other purpose but she always suspected Batman enjoys aesthetics almost as much as efficiency.</p>
<p>The bat spread out on the chest shines silver in the bright lights.</p>
<p>Cass is fairly good at sewing, having fixed many tears in her shirts and patching pants to make them last longer under watchful gaze of her father. She has no memory of Cain showing her how to close tears or put lost buttons back on; she remembers the first many times she pricked her fingers and sewn her skin accidentally. The suit material seems thicker than she’s used to, reinforced like her – Stephanie’s – Batgirl suit.</p>
<p>Alfred doesn’t comment on her questions when she video calls. He guides her through finding the stitches, shows how to rip them out, makes sure she gets her own stitching just tight enough that the blank black panel can stay secure in the front.</p>
<p>“This one has stronger binding patented by Wayne Enterprises, I believe,” Alfred says. “In case you find yourself running into open fire again.”</p>
<p>Hong Kong feels easier to move round in than Gotham. Rooftops and walls squashed together, there’s always a concrete railing to rest her feet on, a building nearby to direct her grappling hook, there are long stretches of greenery, trees to rest in, corners and alleys hidden from view.</p>
<p>Cass slides down a steel railing around one of the buildings, climbs bamboo scaffolding surrounding another; it lets her go higher than Gotham skyscrapers ever could. The city sprawls in front of her, open and alive, another thing Gotham does not have in common. Standing on top of Gotham felt like watching an ant farm, a closed system you wanted to be on the outside of but couldn’t help observing. Hong Kong feels like the glass has been broken, everything crawls out onto her floor.</p>
<p>Bamboo feels barely noticeable on the soles of her feet. She jumps down on the lower level when someone on the street catches her eyes.</p>
<p>The woman standing on the corner is striking, illuminated by the neon sign she’s taking a photo of, the camera raised to her eye, her body taunt with focus. A boy in a yellow hoodie bumps into her, taunt with focus of a different kind, a barely visible flash of white passing between them. A flash neither the woman nor a passer-by would ever notice.</p>
<p>The boy ducks into an alley and Cass pushes herself off the scaffolding, her body tight like a string, uses a windowsill as leverage, rotating her shoulders enough to land exactly where she wants. She lets her feet hit the ground harder this time, feels electricity go up her legs as the boy turns around at the sound.</p>
<p>Gotham’s children should never be afraid of Batman, Bruce said. They should know he’s watching but they shouldn’t be afraid of what he might do.</p>
<p>Cass holds her hand out.</p>
<p>The boy is surprised, mostly, his body caught in flight at the sight of her. There’s slight tremor in his hands when he reaches into his pocket but no anticipation that would indicate he might try to test the Wayne Enterprise patent.</p>
<p>He throws the phone in the air, scrambling to run off as fast as possible and Cass catches it mid-flight, letting him.</p>
<p>He knows she’s watching now.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Cass goes down to the harbour in the mornings. She listens to the sounds of the ocean, the wind trying to ruffle her hair out of the ponytail she puts it in for that exact reason.  </p>
<p>She likes to just look, “people watch” as Barbara called it. Back in Gotham they would sit in cafes or parks and Cass would just <em>watch, </em>occasionally commenting on more interesting things she caught on.</p>
<p>“You know,” Barbara said once, her face turned to the sun despite a thick layer of sunscreen on her skin. “It would be polite to pretend you can’t see some things.”</p>
<p>She still listened to every bit of drama Cass would narrate.</p>
<p>Victoria Harbour lights up in the sunrise as she walks along the promenade, her hand sliding across the dirty railing. A girl with red hair and a barely-there facial tic poses with her arms spread on the railing, her hip cocked to the side, while a guy with two backpacks on his shoulder takes the photos. He instructs her with short passionless sentences; Cass can see in his shoulders that they had an argument before coming down here. She thinks Barbara would listen to that little story, maybe she would wonder what possibly they could have been fighting about at dawn before catching herself.</p>
<p>She comes back in the evenings to watch the light show in a crowd illuminated by the colourful lights. The orchestra leading the lights and the fireworks are loud enough to drown out voices but Cass can still listen. One evening she stands next to a man with a little girl on his shoulders, probably helping her see the lights clearly. The wonder on her face is bathed in a blue light for a long moment, reflecting in her dark eyes the same way it reflects in her father’s eyes.</p>
<p>She swings through a completely unknown area one night when she catches a glimpse of pink through a window. It makes her pause, settle in a notch in the building’s elevation, right across the narrow street, only to realise she’s looking into a dance studio.</p>
<p>One of the dancers is in the centre of the room, jumping on tiptoes and back on her soles, her leg muscles constricting and relaxing ever so slightly between the movements, her shoulder blades tight when she spins around, raising her arms up like she’s becoming one of the skyscrapers around them. She jumps in whirls of pink and lands in sturdy flexible bamboo of her muscles, one of her hands steadily holding a fan, using it with light controlled flicks of her wrist. She’s fiery and calm, her limbs seem heavier as the dance goes on but she paints over the effort easily with each step, spinning around the room in short bursts and Cass can’t look away.</p>
<p>She settles in the nook through the class. She comes back the next day and the day after that.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>It becomes a routine. In the mornings, or usually the afternoons, she wakes up, eats at the same café around the corner from her apartment, every day sitting with different people, noting away all the peculiarities she could tell Barbara about. She goes down to the harbour to listen to the ocean, some days she explores the hiking trails. She climbs to the mountain tops and doesn’t breathe easier than she would in the city.</p>
<p>Nights are spent on patrols, watching and intervening. Hong Kong isn’t Gotham and that becomes obvious very quickly – crime and violence tucked away in the corners rather than seeping through walls like water damage.</p>
<p>At the same time each day she makes her way into the same neighbourhood, finds the same spot nested inside steel and concrete and bamboo scaffoldings of the parking lot across the street and she watches different variations, different steps and stories.</p>
<p>Cass counts out the similar days in different steps, it’s been three variations she climbed the mountain, two since her last lightshow, she should go to another one soon. Maybe in two more variations.</p>
<p>Then, on one of the similar nights, she feels the count restart.</p>
<p>One of the dancers jumps across the floor, her legs stretched like wings, as a woman steps into the light of the building elevation and Cass recognises her immediately.</p>
<p>Recognises might be a strong word, Cass has never actually seen Raven in person. Dick has shown her photos, though, photos from his time living at the Titans Tower. They were mostly an array of his inspired fashion choices, many random images of his ex he swiped off the table in embarrassment, and shots where he clearly tried to capture everyone but could never manage to do so with more than one culprit slightly out of frame. Raven was usually one of the culprits but Dick presented her triumphantly with at least one photo.</p>
<p>Photos, of course, don’t show what’s most interesting to Cass.</p>
<p>It catches her off guard, the way Raven <em>moves</em>, with nothing Cass can point towards exactly. She doesn’t move like Dick whose training as an acrobat, as a performer, is visible in every step, she doesn’t move like Steph who walks like she could jump out of her skin at any moment, she doesn’t move like anything. All Cass can think of are the brief moments when the dancers in the studio upstairs hang in the air mid-jump, the anticipation of a step that will come, the landing they should calculate. Except, Raven never lands.</p>
<p>Raven drops her keys right as she opens the door to the building. She picks them up looking around to see if someone noticed. Cass turns away respectfully, a giggle warming up her throat, and when she looks back Raven’s gone.</p>
<p>The count resets into a new routine, one that aligns with Raven’s apparently. The people at the café change every day, the harbour stays the same, the sounds of the city putting her to sleep each night or morning never change, the ache in her muscles she tries to soothe with heat pads before lying in the sounds never goes away. The variations never change but each night they feel different and Raven’s step doesn’t change but it never becomes familiar. Cass can’t look away, part of her thinking it might.</p>
<p>She’s there consistently until she’s not one night. Cass could wonder about the sting of disappointment shooting fast and sharp through her chest but she decides against it. It has never become familiar, anyway.</p>
<p>The dancer in maroon leotard grows frustrated with each step she can’t land exactly as she wishes, her movements never loosening in the constructed lightness just as there’s a shift in the air, a delicate crackling of reality that sends goosebumps down Cass’ arms.</p>
<p>She looks towards the centre of the shift and Raven looks back at her from where she’s sitting right across. Barely sitting, Cass thinks to herself, perching like she never fully materialised.</p>
<p>They watch the ballet for few moments; Cass sneaks glances at Raven, watches her in the warm light of the street lights. She’s sitting still, nothing in her posture indicating she pays attention to Cass or intends to speak.</p>
<p>It rises in her own chest instead. “You’re going out,” she says, her voice muffled by the mask slightly. It surprises her a little; she hasn’t realised that before.</p>
<p>Raven looks at her now. “I am?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Cass says, keeping her voice steady. “With me.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>They stop at Cass’ apartment so she can change out of her suit – or rather Raven makes them stop. Hand outstretched in a clear offer, she tilted her head at Cass’ outfit in a suggestion and Cass thought <em>right</em>. Vigilantes in cafes are not an everyday sight.</p>
<p>So, she takes Raven’s hand.</p>
<p>She’s heard snippets before, vaguely, bits of information about what powers metahumans could have, what effect could it have – rarely has the information included non-violent possibilities. Even more rare has Cass herself been subjected to those non-violent possibilities. She also never really expected being this close to Raven’s powers specifically.</p>
<p>She takes Raven’s hand and it’s like being pulled underwater, a cool all-encompassing sensation encasing her in an instant – and just like that she’s being pulled ashore and they are standing in her apartment’s lobby.</p>
<p>Cass lets go of Raven’s hand, or maybe Raven lets go of her hand, lets them into the apartment and goes straight to the bedroom to change. There are probably as many clothes laying around the main room as there are in the bedroom but somehow Cass suspects Raven wouldn’t appreciate her stripping right there. Maybe it’s Barbara’s voice in her head telling her to stop doing that, maybe it’s the way Raven wraps her blue cardigan tightly around herself.</p>
<p>She finds her clothes in different nooks of the room, pulling a shirt from the tangled sheets at the foot of the bed. Raven is standing by the giant windows looking out into the city when she steps out of the bedroom. She turns to face her almost immediately, hand outstretched again. Cass thinks she might understand why Steph says it’s creepy when Cass does that.</p>
<p>The café is cramped and less busy than the one Cass is used to. Bright yellow walls seem to make the overhead lights brighter, especially in contrast with the darkness outside.</p>
<p>The English menu has tiny letters that seem to jump around the laminated pages. Cass tries to focus her gaze when Raven taps the menu, pointing out the items she particularly enjoys. Her voice remains unphased which possibly doesn’t mean much when it comes to Raven, she can’t be sure. She’s still grateful.</p>
<p>Raven orders for them both at the counter because she apparently speaks Cantonese well enough to do so. Cass wonders if Dick knows that about her too.</p>
<p>Apparently, Raven speaks it well enough to make a living teaching private English lessons. When Cass looks into the dance studio windows, Raven makes her way back from a lesson with a boy who seems to learn better than he lets her know.</p>
<p>“He knows enough to tell me I have a funny accent,” Raven says, cutting off another piece of her deep-fried French toast. The melted butter on her lower lip glistens in the bright lights.</p>
<p>“It is kind of funny,” Cass says. She’s not actually sure if it is but Raven frowns at her in a way that barely reaches her forehead. <em>That </em>is kind of funny.</p>
<p>The booth they are sitting in is sandwiched between two other booths – most things seem sandwiched between other things in this place. Cass presses her back against the booth seat, feels her spine click into place. Vertebres? Vertebrae. She should stretch later.</p>
<p>There’s an older couple sitting back-to-back with Raven, a young woman (their daughter, Cass suspects) right across from them in the same booth. She scrunches her nose lightly before raising a spoonful of macaroni soup to her mouth, then puts it down to massage a knot in her shoulder.</p>
<p>“She’s really nervous,” she says before catching herself.</p>
<p>“She’s pregnant,” Raven replies immediately. “She might be nervous to tell them.”</p>
<p>Raven raises her head to meet her gaze. Her eyes are clear and icy and nothing like Steph’s rich blue, Cass thinks before Raven’s eyes focus on the booth behind her.</p>
<p>“He’s in love with his friend,” Raven says, her voice steady but with a tinge of sympathy. “I don’t think it’s reciprocated.”</p>
<p>Cass turns around, expecting Raven to chastise her for it but it doesn’t come. She’s right, one of the boys behind them leans towards the other with soft eyes and open arms. His friend has his back turned towards Cass but that has rarely actually covered her view. “No, it’s not,” she agrees turning back.</p>
<p>Raven doesn’t reply and Cass sits in the silence picking her words carefully. Her voice is steady when she finally speaks. “Have you seen the light show yet?”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Cass still goes down to the harbour in the mornings. Sometimes she wanders with her hand trailing the railing, sometimes Raven joins her before starting her own day. She brings two coffees and walks slower than Cass is used to; she doesn’t comment on everyone Cass points out but she listens.</p>
<p>“He’s hiding a limp,” Cass says, nodding towards an elder man walking down the promenade with a teenage girl.</p>
<p>“He’s in pain but she doesn’t know yet,” Raven replies, her eyes turned towards the ocean.</p>
<p>Sometimes Cass is tempted to ask. Raven isn’t like her, she knows that, if only because she’s pretty sure Dick would have mentioned that. Cass wonders how far off from how she sees people Raven is, whether its so far that she barely sees the bodies anymore. Sometimes she wonders whether Raven looks to the ocean because of something she sees in her; she doesn’t like that thought.</p>
<p>The nights are slow. It’s a change from Gotham where quiet nights were a rarity; you could wander into any neighbourhood and find work to do. Hong Kong isn’t quiet, it’s just that every place that isn’t Gotham feels quiet.</p>
<p>It’s <em>boring</em>. She keeps moving through the city without resting on rooftops on those nights. Her muscles weigh her down every time she pauses, she sits down and her thighs fuse with the cement. Cass suspects if she keeps resting, she will stop getting up. So, she moves, learns how to angle her body best to reach every rooftop, climbs scaffoldings faster each time, her hip joints taking in each landing and jump.</p>
<p>Not all nights are like that.</p>
<p>The body is barely recognizable as human. If Cass jumped up few stories, she could almost believe the bloody mass is an animal. Her stomach turns the closer she sneaks; staring into nothingness never got easier.</p>
<p>The area is already swarming with authorities by the time she gets here, their voices and sounds of the city carrying loud. It almost drowns out the other sound, the one she has never heard in the city, quiet and out of place.</p>
<p>The off-pitch chirping doesn’t sound like any cricket she’s ever heard before either.</p>
<p>Both the sound and the police are long gone by the time she’s done searching the area.</p>
<p>Cass peels off the suit while the computer searches for any match. It comes up with nothing.</p>
<p>Cass lingers for a moment. There are files she never opened, answers to the questions she never asks. Bruce would have told her off for not opening them, probably had all the answers memorized.</p>
<p>She lets the files stay buried amongst many others.</p>
<p>It’s a long while till dawn but Tim answers her call immediately.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Kitri lands the last turn in an off way that doesn’t show through her careful bright smile. It snaps Cass out of a trance momentarily; she notices her left leg went numb. She adjusts in her seat, sneaking a look to her right. The private theatre booth is dim but she can make out Raven’s outline. She’s sitting halfway in her chair, her fingers pressed lightly against her lips. Cass is pretty sure she’s counting out steps. Weirdo.</p>
<p>Below, on the scene, Kitri steps off the stage as the curtains close. The lights come on, signifying the end of the act. Cass raises her arms up, stretching out her back like a cat; it cracks which makes Raven wince automatically. Cass counts the involuntary reaction as a win.</p>
<p>“They usually don’t end up happy.” Raven sits back in her chair, opening the program. She doesn’t look at Cass.</p>
<p>Cass looks down to where the curtains closed on joyous Kitri. “But the “disappointed father” thing seems universal.”</p>
<p>Raven’s mouth quirks up in a brief smile. Cass counts that as a win too.</p>
<p>Cass gets back in the cave that night, reaching for her cape immediately. She takes it off first, then feels her shoulders burn as she reaches down to pull off her shoes. Her leg extends outward, her toes pointing as she tries to flex her sore foot.</p>
<p>She shifts her weight on her other foot, bending the knee lightly. She pushes through the ball of the foot, off the floor, extending her legs into a mid-air split. Her thighs burn as she throws her leg out from the hip, her hands coming together above her head.</p>
<p>She lands with her knees bent, her back stretched, hands pulled down. She wonders if the mid-air snapshot would look as fiery and earthly as Kitri shooting out in the air.</p>
<p>Cass imagines a fan in her outstretched hand.</p>
<p>The Batsuit isn’t made to enhance flexibility, with its hard bulletproof panes. She should probably try it in something stretchier.</p>
<p>She thinks of the perfect straight line of Kitri’s legs as she rests mid-air for a split second.</p>
<p>Maybe she could get some mirrors too.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The pier is just as scorching as the hiking trail was.</p>
<p>Cass puts her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. The pier is bursting with life, people gathering around and on ferries, coming in and out of the cafes and stores.</p>
<p>“Stamina would be a useful power, huh,” she tells Raven who’s leaning against a wall of a nearby building, hiding in the sun.</p>
<p>“You think you’re so funny,” Raven replies, wiping sweat off her forehead. Her hair is sweaty and tangled at the base of her neck, visible since Raven put her hair up in a ponytail. She looks tired and dishevelled. Cass kind of likes it.</p>
<p>A glimpse of bright yellow catches her eye. She follows it with her eyes to see an older woman standing by, waiting for someone to catch up with her. She’s holding a cylinder tube with bright yellow sunflowers printed on.</p>
<p>She feels a hand sneaking around her arm, Raven clearly having abandoned her post. She takes Cass’ arm, leading them off the hiking trail completely.</p>
<p>“It’s a scattering urn,” Raven says, her voice dropping a little lower than usual. “There’s a ferry that leaves from here so people can scatter ashes at sea.”</p>
<p>Cass feels herself frowning now. “Oh,” she replies, relaxing her features.</p>
<p>Her arm feels tingly where Raven’s hand rests gently in the nook of her elbow. Cass turns her head to look at the ocean as Raven leads them down the pier. It’s calm today, sparkling in the bright sun, barely any waves hitting the shore. She imagines pale gray powder landing on the surface.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I would like mine… scattered,” she says, choosing words slowly.</p>
<p>Raven nods. “Back home… back in Azarath,” she starts, “they used to use shrouds. They would cover you in linen and lay to rest in the ground, left to decompose by yourself. Giving you back to the earth that birthed you and whatnot.”</p>
<p>Cass replaces the image of powder sinking down to the bottom of the sea with white linen soaked with dirt, coyotes scavenging on the ground surface above. Food is hard to come by in some areas; Cass can understand that.</p>
<p>“I like that,” Cass replies.</p>
<p>“Me too,” Raven agrees, her other hand resting on Cass’ arm too. “I think I would like my body to become the earth.”</p>
<p>Cass steps to the side, out of the way of a couple coming from the other direction, Raven following suit. She’s not sure what to do with her hands so she shoves them further in her pockets. It’s an unpleasant feeling.</p>
<p>There’s been a thought replaying in her head in the past months, part memory, part fact. It unburies itself in her mind now, only made more potent by the sun shining in her eyes.</p>
<p>Cass clears her throat. The words could get stuck if she didn’t. “You lose your sight first.”</p>
<p>It comes out a little weak. “When you die,” she clarifies stronger. “You lose your sight first when you die.”</p>
<p>Some nights she closes her eyes and feels the wound with jagged edges on her stomach burn. Other nights her skin burns with the heat from a fire.</p>
<p>“Grief is a festering wound,” Raven says gently. It sounds like a quote.</p>
<p>“Who said that?” Cass asks, glancing to the side to watch her face.</p>
<p>Raven ducks her head, smiles. Her smile is soft and genuine. “Prince Harry.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p> “Bruce is back” Tim says and Cass thinks <em>well, good for him.</em> That doesn’t mean she has to change a thing this time.</p>
<p>He hands her the suit with steady hands but there’s a slight hardness in his grip. Maybe he doesn’t think she will take it.</p>
<p>She does. She still says, “There is a Batgirl.” Because there <em>is.</em> Steph deserves the bat, probably more so than most of them do. Steph needs the bat to figure that out herself too. The last thing Cass would ever do is make her believe she doesn’t.</p>
<p>Bruce owes it to Steph too. Cass suspects he owes her too, in a different way, but that thought feels more foreign.</p>
<p>Tim looks at her and she can’t see his eyes under the mask but she doesn’t need to. “And what do you need?” He’s not prodding, he’s not asking like there’s a motive behind it. He stands there with his chest open, slightly leaning towards her.</p>
<p>Cass exhales a little deeper, through the tightness in chest. She missed him more than she realised.</p>
<p>“To… just… be…” she replies. Tim assumes she’s stumbling over words but she’s not. She’s stumbling over the “be”.</p>
<p>Cass keeps the suit anyway, throws it over the computer chair back at the Bat-basement. The yellow of the bat looks more golden than on her old one, catching the light in a way that one couldn’t.</p>
<p>Tim doesn’t come knocking on her door before he leaves but he finds her at the harbour at dawn. His eyes are bleary, his cheeks slightly sunken, Cass notices, but not much more than usual. He’s never been as good at hiding long nights as the rest of them.</p>
<p>She leans back on the railing, chewing on the straw of her bubble tea. There’s a group of three people nearby, two girls and a boy. One of the girls and the boy are holding hands.</p>
<p> “Steph slapped him,” Tim says, unzipping his jacket slightly. Even at cool dawn Hong Kong is stuffier and warmer than Gotham ever could be.</p>
<p>“He deserved it.” Tim doesn’t disagree but he didn’t expect her to actually say it.</p>
<p>The boy’s hand is firm in the girl’s hand, yet his eyes are warmer when he looks at their friend. It deepens the lines in his smile too.</p>
<p>Cass nudges Tim with her elbow. “He likes her friend more.”</p>
<p>He blinks. “Huh,” he darts a look to the side before looking back down at his phone, back to the email he is drafting.</p>
<p>Family isn’t always home. Problem is, she’s not sure what home is. Anymore or maybe she never did, it’s hard to tell. Harder than it used to be.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Bookshops, Cass decides, are not on a list of her favorite places. Nowhere near that list.</p>
<p>She’s been <em>fidgeting</em>, like Raven commented, picking up books around her just to have a look at the dancing letters. She puts them back almost immediately, her head swimming if she tries to read the words for too long.</p>
<p>The bookshop has books lying on every surface, placed carefully and with a plan. She tries to be careful putting them back. Cass noticed with Babs, book people seem to be weird about how they place them. It’s uncomfortable.</p>
<p>She shuffles back to the windowsill, where Raven is sitting with her own stack of books she picked out, buried in a completely different book because <em>of course</em>. It’s a bookshop, there isn’t much else to do.</p>
<p>The book on top of the pile has a big red dragon on the cover. Cass picks it up. “It’s for kids.”</p>
<p>“I teach kids,” Raven points out. “Besides, simple stories can be important too.”</p>
<p>Her hair is plaited in a loose braid; she’s not very good at braiding, it’s coming apart at the nape of her neck. Cass wants to fix it for her. Raven’s hair catches light in a way that makes her suspect it’s feels silky to touch.</p>
<p>She sits down on the windowsill, her arm almost pressed against Raven’s. Cass assumed she would move away as Raven tends to, but she remains in place. The spots where their skin brushes against each other feel warmer than the rest. “What’s the story?”</p>
<p>“It’s a dragon who eats children until he becomes friends with one.” Raven’s eyes never leave her book but she must feel Cass’ gaze on her, “Keep it to yourself, please.”</p>
<p>Cass looks through few pages. Big letters make it much easier to read. She still decides to wait for the movie.</p>
<p>Raven sits up a little straighter, putting down her book; Cass catches a colourful drawing of a brain on the cover. “Cassie,” Raven starts, her voice as silky as she imagines her hair to be. “I wanted to- do you remember when you told me that your language centres are all over your brain?”</p>
<p>She does. It was a bit of a moment of weakness, really, born out of frustration because <em>why</em> do all the menus in this city have tiny letters? She immediately regretted it but Raven only nodded with understanding.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>Raven exhales a little deeper, starts playing with the end of her braid. It’s a nervous, human gesture. “I didn’t think anyone really explained to you what it meant so I’ve been reading about it so I could find the words because what your fa- what Cain did… He cut you off from your own narrative. And your brain found a way to give it back to you.” Raven turns to her, looks her in the eyes. “I don’t think it’s embarrassing. I think it’s kind of amazing.”</p>
<p>She means it, with her whole heart, Cass can see it. She can see that Raven’s nervous to mention it, that she has thought about it before, that bringing it up makes her feel as vulnerable as Cass feels listening to it and-</p>
<p>Cass needs her to stop talking.</p>
<p>So, she reaches over, slides her fingertips along Raven’s jawline and Raven lets her so she leans in, brushes her lips against Raven, once, twice, lightly. She kind of expects Raven to move away, shake her hand off but Raven- Raven leans <em>in</em> and kisses her <em>back</em>. She smells sweet like vanilla incense Cass knows she burns in her apartment; her hair is just as smooth as she imagined; her kiss is soft and delicate but her lips are undeniably pressing against hers.</p>
<p>Raven moves away too quickly for her liking. “We’re still in a public place,” she says, her eyes reflecting her small smile.</p>
<p>Cass drops her hand in her lap.</p>
<p>She should ask to redo Raven’s braid.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Cass isn’t sure how she imagined it to be. She’s not sure she really imagined it before.</p>
<p>Raven’s body runs hotter than she thought, even against cool AC air. The night air is hot and heavy tonight, their damp skin sticking to each other. It’s stupid to assume any being with a body wouldn’t sweat but Cass decided to stop assuming a while ago.</p>
<p>She runs her hand over Raven’s back and there’s nothing, down her thigh and there’s nothing, planes of smooth skin, like it’s never been unused. She knows that Raven can trace each bullet wound scar on back, her hips, her stomach; she might be doing it now, Cass can’t be sure.</p>
<p>Her stomach feels like it’s twisting and unwinding so she grabs, and she digs her fingers in, she bites down which earns her a surprised gasp and that unwinds her a bit more. She scratches, she listens to another gasp, she watches the red line appear with satisfaction. It disappears almost quicker than it appeared, though.</p>
<p>Raven props herself up on her elbow and the moonlight pools in her clavicles; it looks like it belongs there. Maybe she belongs with it.</p>
<p>They settle late into the night; Cass lies on her back listening to Raven’s barely-there briefing. The mattress is uncomfortable on her back, a little too soft. She presses her lower back down into it, tries to stretch it further. It doesn’t do much.</p>
<p>Raven stirs immediately when she sits up because Raven apparently sleeps light like a cat.</p>
<p>Cass clears her throat a little before speaking. “There’s… I don’t use the bed a lot.”</p>
<p>It’s true, it has always been true. Beds feel foreign sometimes still, like the space wasn’t actually meant to be rested on the way she needs.</p>
<p>Raven doesn’t say anything when Cass spreads a sheet down on the floor. She kicks some of the clothes lying around away to make space. It warms the coils in Cass’ stomach a bit. She would do the same.</p>
<p>She half-expects Raven to get back into bed so it’s somewhat of a surprise when she settles on the sheet with her.</p>
<p>She falls asleep much quicker now; through a haze of light dozing, she feels a warm hand brushing hair off her face.</p>
<p>Moonlight still pools around her when she dreams.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The suit has been hanging off the back of the chair for long enough but the material never creased. They never do, Cass noticed that when Alfred told her off for wearing wrinkled shirts one too many times. She still thinks it’s stupid to have only one outfit that doesn’t need to be ironed.</p>
<p>She takes it off the chair, feels the lightweight material in her hands. It’s not one of the costumes she wore as Batgirl, this one has been clearly intended to be a reconstruction; it feels a little heavier, the colors are a little off. The mask has no visible stitching around the mouth.</p>
<p>It’s not Batgirl but it’s too close to Batgirl. Cass isn’t sure if she wants to be that close anymore.</p>
<p>Tim said Black Robin but Cass has never been Robin. That’s Steph, that’s Tim, that’s not her or Barbara or Bruce, it’s not really theirs. Cass has always been a bat.</p>
<p>Raven said that the wound is <em>festering.</em> Cass looked up the word, went into image search, regretted it immediately.</p>
<p>There’s a thing about wounds that Raven wouldn’t think about, not with her flawless moonlight skin.</p>
<p>Wounds don’t <em>fester </em>if you take care of them.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Stone railing doesn’t make drawing on paper any easier but Cass has never been one to give up. She adds a cape to the little design; it comes out a little jagged.</p>
<p>Raven shoots a quick look at the new addition before going back to eyeing a monkey sitting suspiciously close. Monkey Hill, indeed. “I like it. Looks very smoky.”</p>
<p>She sounds a little blank. Even more than usual, Cass adds mentally. “That would fit Gotham.”</p>
<p>Raven hums, more to acknowledge she heard her than to agree. The monkey is joined by another one, running along the railing and stopping rapidly. Raven moves a little further away from them.</p>
<p>She scrunches her nose. “Something smells off. Kind of… metallic. Can you smell it?”</p>
<p>Cass shakes her head, adding to the drawing. She would like to try a domino mask, she thinks. She’s just not sure how to make one more… bat-like.</p>
<p>“You know,” Raven starts, her voice casual, “there was an experiment done with mice. They would raise them either in a warm next full of food or a loud, empty one. Then the mice would be released and when they least expected it there would be a sound, a loud, invasive one that would take them by surprise. They found that when scared, all of them would go back to the nest, regardless of how welcoming it was.”</p>
<p>Cass looks at her. The sun is highlighting her cheekbones, washing her face out rather than pooling in the lines of her face. It looks wrong. “Are you saying I’m a scared mouse?”</p>
<p>“I’m saying,” Raven replies, “that scared animals return home. No matter what.”</p>
<p>Well, Cass thinks, if their home is where they were raised that might be a problem.</p>
<p>Another monkey runs along the railing towards the other two. Raven pushes herself away from it. “I don’t think I like what they are planning. Can we keep moving?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Cass folds the piece of paper in half and slides it into her pocket. She follows Raven down the bridge, sliding her sunglasses back onto her face.</p>
<p>Raven scrunches her nose all the way back to the trail. There’s no smell as far as Cass can tell.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Cass likes to work alone. That’s the thing Babs doesn’t really get about her – she knows it’s worry; she knows it’s having worked with Bruce for way too long and knowing how that ends for everyone. Cass isn’t adamant about it, though, she doesn’t refuse to acknowledge that she doesn’t usually work alone. She likes patrolling with Steph, she likes getting away from dark streets of Gotham to play a round of rooftop tag, she likes when Steph ropes Dick into joining them whenever he visits. Still, Cass likes to work alone.</p>
<p>She likes to work with Tim, though.</p>
<p>They found a rhythm over the years, clashed enough times that eventually they just started to fit together. Working with Tim is different than working with anybody else Cass knows and has partnered with, willingly or not.</p>
<p>She thinks Tim agrees. His whole body relaxed noticeably when she stepped off the plane in Paris. It relaxed something in the pit of her stomach too. Cass suspects he likes that he doesn’t need to fight about or even explain anything because she just <em>knows</em>. She’s not really sure how other people don’t know. Tim isn’t a very hard person to read. Cass really likes that about him too.</p>
<p>She hugs him tight enough that Tim exhales in surprise into her shoulder.</p>
<p>Paris relaxes something in her stomach but it also leaves an itch under her skin. It settles there from the moment she grabs her bag at the familiar Hong Kong airport, intensifies when she throws it to the corner of her bedroom. The window is closed again, the city might as well disappear behind it.</p>
<p>She could scratch and the lines wouldn’t disappear and that makes the itch even worse.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Some woman bumps into Cass in a crowd, moving away swiftly when she realises. Cass smiles at her but she’s not sure if she noticed; she’s hoisting her son up on her shoulders so he can see the boats.</p>
<p>The sun almost turns the ocean golden like the bat on her suit back at her apartment. The dragon-shaped boats cut through the sparkling surfaces in a variety of colors.</p>
<p>“I like the red one,” she tells Raven who’s busy fanning herself with Cass’ baseball cap. Apparently, Raven does not handle high temperatures well.</p>
<p>“Cassie,” she replies, her voice in more pain than she could ever look, <em>“which</em> red one?”</p>
<p>“All of them,” she replies. Raven frowns at her. Score.</p>
<p>It’s hotter and more humid among the crowd but Cass has always found crowds energising. She likes being with people and all their gestures and stories. Well, most of the time she does, only on her own terms.</p>
<p>Raven seems to disagree. She’s tightly wound, holding onto herself with her arms crossed across her chest. She’s picking at her shirt, stretching out the collar and pulling the material away from her skin wherever it sticks to sweat. Cass is pretty sure she’s not aware she’s doing that.</p>
<p>It tugs at Cass’ heart. It was her idea to watch the festival. Raven agreed to come with her immediately, even though she was probably much more comfortable lying on the floor in front of the AC in her apartment.</p>
<p>Cass reaches out with her hand, somewhat unsure, places her fingers on Raven’s back gently.</p>
<p>Raven tenses up so she takes her hand back immediately.</p>
<p>Raven crosses her arms around herself a little tighter. “I like the blue one.”</p>
<p>“All of them?” Cass asks, crossing her own arms. Raven just hums in confirmation.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Her and Tim ended up with the same three ribs broken. It would be funny if Cass could laugh or move without feeling like she might break her entire ribcage. If either rib punctures any organs, she will be <em>really</em> mad.</p>
<p>Her eyes are still ringing from the chirping – or maybe she has a concussion, it’s hard to tell. It’s hard to tell which parts of her body hurt at this point. She presses her back against the floor, feels it crack into place.</p>
<p>She’s pretty sure the bruise on her side is shaped like a sole of a boot which would be impressive if Cass wasn’t incredibly annoyed by it.</p>
<p>When did criminals get so bold? She asks Raven exactly that.</p>
<p>“They always have been,” Raven texts back. “You’ve just always been bolder.”</p>
<p>“Anything interesting?” Tim asks from where he’s melting into her couch. “Anyone interesting?”</p>
<p>Cass isn’t sure she likes what he’s suggesting. She can’t be sure how Tim feels about what he’s suggesting because his entire body has been stiff with pain for the last few hours, even with painkillers they’ve both been surviving on.</p>
<p>“No,” she replies.</p>
<p>Tim makes a sceptical noise. Cass doesn’t have to have it in her to reply. She could make fun of his dating history, or, more accurately, his dating tragedies but she’s starting to suspect she might have a fourth broken rib. It might also just be all the bruising. She would ask Tim to have a look but she’s pretty sure he would finish the job Cricket started.</p>
<p>“B. has been telling me to ask if you thought about coming to Gotham at all,” Tim says suddenly.</p>
<p>Cass winces. It’s involuntary and it has nothing to do with any injuries. “Telling <em>you</em>?”</p>
<p>Tim shrugs, then regrets it instantly. “You know how he is,” he says, his voice tight with pain. It doesn’t make Cass want to visit Gotham any more than she did before.</p>
<p>Then, Tim speaks up again, “Steph was asking too.”</p>
<p>Her stomach lurches at the thought of seeing Steph again. They haven’t really spoken since they said goodbyes at the airport. Steph didn’t need to deal with more than she was already handed.</p>
<p>It would be nice to see her again, Cass thinks. Maybe. Just like maybe she does have a fourth rib broken or maybe not.</p>
<p>Someone should probably have a look at that, though.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Only three are broken,” Raven says.</p>
<p>She took a quick look at her ribcage, barely feeling around, but she sounds so sure that Cass decides to trust her. It doesn’t seem like she has many other choices when even moving around on the bed feels like being stabbed right in the chest.</p>
<p>She winces through adjusting her pillow while Raven grabs an icepack from the kitchen. Cass takes it from her and presses it against her chest, wincing at the pressure and the cold.</p>
<p>Raven rubs the same place on her own ribcage absentmindedly and Cass thinks <em>oh.</em> Oh right. That’s why she was so sure it’s only three broken ribs. She can see Raven balling up the material of her skirt in her hands now too, like she’s stopping herself from doing something else.</p>
<p>Part of her thinks the gesture should be more reassuring, more welcoming than it actually is. In reality, Raven’s hands and her presence and the way her eyes trace bursts of pain in her body whenever painkillers wear off – it all makes her more aware of every sensation than she should be.</p>
<p>The files buried in the computer beneath their feet – maybe she wishes she had a look now. Maybe she’s glad she didn’t.</p>
<p>Cass clears her throat, grateful for the pillow against her back to relieve the pressure. “When you- when you heal, can you see anything? More than just… than just pain.”</p>
<p>Raven rubs the inside of her palm. Cass realises her own went numb from holding the ice pack. “I get… glimpses,” Raven says carefully. “Sometimes. I can’t control whether I do or not.”</p>
<p>Cass nods. She presses the icepack a little harder into her chest. That’s all she really wanted.</p>
<p>Raven sits up straighter, turning her head towards the open bedroom door. The lines between her brows deepen as she frowns. “Did you hear anything?”</p>
<p>Cass shakes her head. Her apartment usually keeps the sounds out well but you can’t really keep the city out all the time.</p>
<p>She can hear it faintly even now, the sounds of crowds and cars and construction happening at the building next door. It reminds her of her old Gotham apartment; there was a construction next to that building too, for as long as she lived there.</p>
<p>She clears her throat again, trying to get rid of an itch at the back of it. “I think… I think I will visit Gotham. Soon.”</p>
<p>Raven shifts, brings her hand up to her own throat before dropping it again. “You should.”</p>
<p>Cass moves the ice pack to the other side of her ribcage. Part of her hopes Raven rubs the same side on her chest too.</p>
<p>She doesn’t.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Gotham has not changed, at all. However, being in Gotham has never felt more foreign.</p>
<p>Alfred turns the heat on in the car on their way to the manor. Cass is wearing a light cotton jacket but she shivered all the way to the car because summer in Hong Kong and summer in Gotham could not be more different.</p>
<p>It starts raining before they even reach the house.</p>
<p>Tim greets her in kitchen, pulling her into a warm hug. “Bruce is at the office and Dick is coming to town this weekend,” he says while Alfred prepares food for her.</p>
<p>She feeds some of the food to the dog because they have a dog now apparently. Damian has a dog. Damian also keeps his distance from her. He’s tense and unsettled, like he’s not sure where to place her. Cass leaves him be.</p>
<p>Cass unpacks her bag in the evening. Alfred prepared one of the rooms for her, so she places the few items she knew she would need in the dresser. She pulls a black sweater out of her bag last, takes a moment to check for the smell of vanilla and jasmine incense. It lingers in her nose still when she pushes it to the back of the drawer.</p>
<p>Someone knocks on the door once, twice, three times. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>She knows it is him because who else would have knocked on her door with such hesitation?</p>
<p> “Cassie,” Bruce says closing the door behind him, “I was wondering if I could speak to you?”</p>
<p>“Were you?” Cass pushes the dresser drawer shut with more force than needed.</p>
<p>Bruce doesn’t acknowledge it. “Yes. I… I wanted to apologise.”</p>
<p>That… that’s a surprise. That surprised her more than his death, if she’s being honest.</p>
<p>However, it’s not undeserved. “Go on.”</p>
<p>Bruce shifts weight from one leg to another; he’s uncomfortable, she realises. She also realises he’s holding a rectangular box in his hands.</p>
<p>“Stephanie needed the test. That’s why I asked you to pass Batgirl to her, I thought she needed the test. To see whether – that she could do it.”</p>
<p>It’s bubbling in her chest now, hot and acidic, a bile rising to her throat. Cass has kept it down for too long. “You were testing Steph,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Was it a test for me too? What did you think I couldn’t do? What did you-“</p>
<p>“I was never testing you,” Bruce cuts her off. “I’m sorry that I made you think that. I didn’t realise you would until Alfred pointed it out.”</p>
<p>“It’s what you do,” Cass feels like she’s spitting the words out rather than saying them. She swallows the acid down.</p>
<p>Bruce ducks his head and there’s some shame in this gesture that she didn’t expect. “It’s what I realised in your absence. That’s why I- I should have done this instead. I hope it’s not too late but I understand if you disagree.”</p>
<p>He takes the lid off the box he’s holding and Cass blinks to make sure she sees the contents clearly.</p>
<p>It’s Batman’s suit. Just the suit, there’s no cowl or cape or utility belt. It also looks a little off, it seems smaller than she’s used to.</p>
<p>“I hope the measurements are still correct,” Bruce says awkwardly.</p>
<p>Cass looks at the suit and back at him. Her mouth goes dry. “What?”</p>
<p>“I’m not retiring right now,” he clarifies. “However, I thought… I realised <em>when</em> I retire might not be fully in my control. Before, I thought I was doing right by you. I was wrong. So, I want to do right by you when the time comes, whenever it might be. I was wondering if you would want me to train you. To properly show you how to take over.”</p>
<p>The words roar in her ears like the ocean at the Victoria Harbour, they cut through the air like a dragon boat sliding across the water surface. Cass swallows through her tight throat, her dry mouth.</p>
<p>“Damian will be mad,” she says.</p>
<p>“You have Dick’s blessing, that should be enough for him.” Bruce smiles at her but she doesn’t reciprocate. Not yet.</p>
<p>She takes the box out of his hands regardless.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Cass does not like phone calls. It’s not very surprising to those who know her, she guesses. Relying on voice, relying on words makes her feel uneasy.</p>
<p>She breathes in the vanilla scent lingering in the fabric of the black sweater. The black bat symbol on the chest of the suit doesn’t catch light the way her golden bat used to.</p>
<p>She should call.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ballet mentioned is Don Quixote obv</p></blockquote></div></div>
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